“The first person you love, Ann Veronica, is yourself—get hold of that! The soul you have to save is Ann Veronica’s soul. “Please stop, cabman,” she ordered. "Any price was better than your head. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that. “I didn’t know Mr. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity.
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